


There Was Skin Beneath these Scales

by Rabbit (Majorminor2242)



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Dragon Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, F/M, Female Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon), Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III Needs a Hug, Paralysed Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Protective Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-21 08:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majorminor2242/pseuds/Rabbit
Summary: Hiccup never fit in as a viking, but who could blame him -what with his scrawny stature, spindly, useless legs and less hair than what Vikings considered healthy? From a very young age, Hiccup had been paralysed below the waist, never to walk again. It was a dragon who did this to him…And he wanted to make sure that it was a dragon that would fall victim to his enacted revenge.…But what if things played out a little differently to what he had in mind when he first imagined killing the legendary -perhaps even mythical- Night Fury that reigned the skies?





	1. Fate's Twisted Humour

Hiccup was only five when Berk was raided by it's hardest challenge ever presented to it. He could remember, even at such a young age, the fire. The screaming. The torturous wails of broken families and suffering Vikings. For they weren't just raided by the usual common Gronkles, Hideous Zipplebacks, Deadly Nadders and Monstrous Nightmares…

No, the dragons held no mercy that night.

The deafening screech of a Night Fury tore through the world itself, men parting like seas and oceans in a torrent of 'NIGHT FURY, GET DOWN!!' 's and 'RETREAT TO THE MEAD HALL!'. But that wasn't all. It was rare to see a Night Fury in a raid, but it was downright unusual to see a Scauldron, as well as a Whispering Death attacking so far North in the middle of winter (which started in September and ended in May to give way to only three months of 'summer'). But anyway, the point is, it was unprecedented. No attack in Viking history had ever been recorded to be so brutal. It wasn't a even war. It was a _slaughter_. And if it wasn't for my dad, the chief of Berk, Stoick 'The Vast' Horrendous Haddock, then the village would have been entirely uprooted by the dragons.

It was already dawn by the time the dusk raid victor had been decided. the vikings had held out with hardly half their lives, however in the early morning sun, the dragons had lost their biggest advantage: _concealment_, and so had to retreat, lest they face far more losses than they had.

It… It was that day, that I lost all feeling in both my legs. As a final attack before they lost all concealment, the Night Fury blasted a purple ball of _malevolent death_ directly at the largest standing house in the village, atop the largest standing hill on Berk… with me in it.

And it was from that day forwards, that I swore to kill that Night Fury for what it did to the village. For what it did to _me._ I would be the first to ever see a Night Fury, and kill it. And I promised myself from that day onwards, that I would mount its rear legs like a trophy in my room. A symbol of vengeance and a reminder of ironic karma.

* * *

"Move it, Useless!" Snotlout's familiar voice sounded from behind me as he kicked my trusty invention, _the wheelchair,_ to the side, with me stuck in it and unable to stop it from toppling ungraciously over on top of me. He immediately rushed past me holding a bucket of water, followed by the twins, and lastly by Astrid herself. She glanced at me with half-disgusted pity, before shaking her head and carrying on walking.

It hurt to watch her deliberate over helping me up off the floor and deciding against doing that little.

Thankfully, the only person my age that had even the tiniest smidge of remorse for me, leant over and helped me up.

"Thanks Fishlegs." I grumbled as the enormous boy heaved me up and onto the small, mobile chair as though I weighed the same as a fishbone.

"D-don't worry about it… They shouldn't be this cruel when you've had to endure this for so long." he mumbled back sincerely but quietly. "Anyway, I have to go, and you should probably… head back _inside_. See you around or something, Hiccup." All I could do was nod and wave, and then he was gone like the rest. Following the pack that were fighting to control the fires as the rest of the Vikings all battled the current dragon raid that we expected every Tīwesdæg (Tuesday).

Returning to the path I was following originally, I rounded a corner towards the forge, carefully and precisely gliding between all the roaring men and women and hardly batting an eyelid towards the liquid fire that splashed an odd ten feet away from me as someone bludgeoned a Monstrous Nightmare's face in.

The moment I made it through the open doorway, it was as though I had entered another realm from how the violence shifted into calm safety, the steady clang of molten metal that Gobber was hammering back into place pulsed rhythmically with my heartbeat. "Ah, Hiccup! Where 'ave you been? Y'alright lad? I was honestly starting to think you'd been carried off to be used in one of them Nadders' nests!" his thick accent never lost its friendly tone -with just a little bit of joking sarcasm.

"Ohhhh, yeah, _never better_." we both snorted at our sarcastic banter. Gobber was practically my father figure from how much he looked out for me, and sarcasm just happened to be a symptom to too much exposure. "But you underestimate me, Gobber! We both know that if a Deadly Nadder came after me, it'd be punched back to oblivion! There's incredible power hidden inside these veins, trust me, I can just _feel _it." I stared at him with all the confident certainty I could muster, but broke down into laugher at the man's exasperated facepalm. "But no, nothing new happening for me lately, no need to worry." at that final part, I knew he knew that my smile was plastered on with minimal effort to conceal anything, but the blacksmith forced himself to ignore it, which I preferred and was always thankful for. Gobber knew what it felt like to loose limbs. He himself lost both his left arm and leg within a single month many years ago, however at least he could still <strike>walk hastily</strike> _hobble_ _ferociously_.

"Right, what needs mending first?" I asked with a small flare of whatever energy I could find in myself.

Gobber just smiled. "Well, I was thinking for now you could just sharpen those swords I 'ammered back inta place."

"Alright, on it." I wheeled over to the grinder, a pile of swords-that-had-the-tiniest-bends-in-them and grimaced with a chuckle. Gobber never did really care too much about the weapons any more than 'can they kill a dragon?'. It wasn't that the blacksmithing artisan didn't have the talent…

More that he didn't have the patience.

"Right, Ah'm gointa go out there and help out a bit. You stay." he twisted his iconic hammer into the fixed mechanism on his left arm and swung it around a bit, before glaring back at me. Wordlessly, he stalked away to charge out of the forge, before turning around as though he forgot something. "_-Here_. Stay here. I'll be back -probably."

"Yeah, and I'll be here -maybe." I only grinned at his helpless sigh, laughing as he grumbled 'jus' don't venture out too far like _last time_.' under his breath. "I won't!" I called, snorting at his undignified retort.

And then I was left all alone in the forge once again during another raid.

"Hhhhhhhh." I sighed in anticipation for the sound that I needed to near. It was practically the only sound that gave me any valid excuse for escaping the forge without my Dad bearing his full wrath on me.

Since how could the chief be mad at me wanting fully justified revenge?

"This time. This time. _Come on." _I paced about -scurried on my mobile contraption- and twitched my fingers on the wooden wheels. It had been at least a dozen odd raids since the last time I had the reason to leave and try to shoot down that Night Fury, and I really didn't want to wait any longer.

It took far longer than I wanted it to, and for a long while, I was disappointingly certain that this would simply be another one of those 'sharpening swords' raids, until I heard it.

A sickening screech that pierced the air violently, like a cacophony of whistling air, magnified hundred-fold as the village yelled simultaneously to my whisper…

"Night Fury."  
"NIGHT FURY, GET DOWN!"

Not much is known about the Night Fury, and by not much, I mean nothing beyond the advice to 'hide, not run nor try to fight back' when facing one. They never steal food themselves during raids, and no-one has ever seen it's appearance -unless they have and simply never lived to tell the tale. They only attack during the Night as well, due to being as black as the sky itself, and they had been dubbed by all as the 'Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself' for obvious reasons.

I reared with adrenaline, before immediately spinning around to face the contraption left in the corner of the room. My magnificent invention: the _'Mangler'._ The function was simple: Accurately shoot down dragons that are farther than most Vikings can throw a bola, however its design was a little more… _sophisticated_ than that.

I hooked the heavy mechanism to the back of my portable chair, something I had done so often that I didn't need to spin myself around to see where I tied the knots and tightened the buckles.

And then I was off before anyone would know it.

"What ar' you doing out here!?" Getting revenge on the sick monster that disabled me at the age of five. What does it _look _like I'm doing?!

"Hiccup, go back to the forge and be useful!" Why hello to you too Hoark.

"Get back inside!" I will if you give me about five to ten minutes.

… Okay, perhaps I wasn't _'off before they know it'_, but at least I was too fast, rolling downhill on a set of wheels for anyone to try stopping me and risk getting trampled? Cut your wins and loses separately I guess.

Anyway, my eyes fell on the purple ball of plasma that collided into a distant catapult, before a black blur soared past the flames, illuminated for the briefest of milliseconds.

It was then that I realised what I had to do. "How have I not thought of this before?! I'll set up next to one of the few remaining fire towers illuminating the sky, and the moment it shoots it down, I'll have that split second to see it and do the same!" I grinned widely at this sudden but effective idea formulating in my head.

But I'll only have one chance. One shot to bring it down, _so I had to make it count._

Clicking the brakes on my cart, I swerved down the hill off to the side, where the ground levelled out into a small empty meadow where the sheep would graze (the same sheep the dragons are trying to steal). Reaching the edge of a moderate cliff, with the freezing sea to my left and the village ablaze on my right, I snapped a lever behind me, and several clicks later, the bola launcher was towering over my shoulder and tracing wherever my arm aimed.

"Perfect." And then I waited patiently, eyes tracing the sky and my arm levelled with the beacon-tower not too far ahead of me, standing on top of another plateau.

It took a minute or two, however the tell-tale screeching and panicked voices indicated towards it happening. My eyes scanned the small space of sky that was somewhat lit up by the tower, and my arm twitched with every sound in the frantic air. I was lucky to have made the trigger response take more than just a trembling finger, otherwise I would have definitely misfired accidently by now.

Suddenly, a glowing purple sphere of plasmolysed death collided violently with the beacon, and my eyes caught the faintest of movement that blocked out a star or two as it soared past. In a panic, I raised my arm a little higher, and the launcher clicked. A net with several heavy iron balls launched out into the darkness with a resounding *TWANG-WANG-ANG-NG-G* as the launcher collapsed in on it's broken spring.

_Whoops. _Looks like I calibrated it just a _little_ too much on the power side- my distracted thoughts returned to the purpose of why I was here when a pain filled screech of terror filled the air, the telltale sounds of the heavy bola wrapping around it's victim and pulling them down to the earth.

My heart stopped beating for the longest of moments. My ears disbelieving and my eyes dilated in abject surprise.

I hit it.

_I hit it._

"Oh my gods **_I actually hit it_**… I need to tell Gobber! I need to tell dad! What will Astrid think when it turns out that the cripple of the village shot down the first Night Fury in all of Viking history?!" I was halfway through turning around, when a gruff grunt of hot breath tickled my neck and ruffled my unkempt brown hair messily.

Slowly swivelling my head, I found myself face-to-face with a Nightmare, which held the largest shit-eating grin I think I have ever seen in my entire life. It was almost mocking me, laughing to itself as it took in the view of 'the helpless Viking before it'.

"Oh _come on._ Didn't anybody _else_ see what I just did?" now probably wasn't the time for sarcasm, however, as I found the thing's maw widening, revealing sickeningly sharp, bone-crushing teeth and a swirling white-hot flame at the back of it's throat. "Ahh _dingleberries_." RUN! Immediately, I yelped, tearing off the brakes and launching myself forward by hand at speeds faster than my lanky arms should have been able to achieve.

**~oOo~**

"AHHHHHHHHHH-HA-HA-AH HEEEEEELLLLLLLPPP!" Stoick glanced upwards in confused recognition of that voice. His eyes tracing his son screaming as a dragon chased him mockingly slow on a hill not far away. It kept missing it's shots purposefully, as well as blocking Hiccup's every move with a single wing beat and loud thudding landing.

"Hhhhhhhhh _Odin-damnit._" Stoick facepalmed and sighed in exasperation. Leave it to the bloody dragons to get kicks out of his son's conditions.

Raising a sharpened, engraved, _rock_ hammer, he charged ahead. "Hiccup, come this way!"

The boy's head raised, and instantly he attempted to change his direction of course, however found himself blocked by another pool of magma. Realising that Stoick was going to have to reach _them_ instead, he groaned and charged faster, before launching a human-bone-shattering fist at the Nightmare.

It only flinched, seemingly pouting at the realisation that it was no longer able to continue having its fun, before taking off into the sky, not wanting to deal with the largest Viking in the village as its opponent.

His eyes followed the beast in irritation for a while longer, before he switched his already thin, self-restrained control and attention to his son.

"Oh thank the gods, you're the best dad, really. I owe you one."

"You owe me hundreds."

"Yes, and that. Now it's hundreds _and one_." Hiccup replied wittily and cheekily.

"Why are you outside of the house _this_ time then?" He half growled as he could tell what the excuse was going to be. It was always the same, but this time, he wasn't planning to let this slide any more.

"You're no longer allowed out of the house for _any_ reason during raids."  
"I hit a Night Fury! -wait what?!" both of their voices clashed, Hiccup flailing his mouth in aghast disbelief and Stoick bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, before scowling.

They both stared at each other. "Bu-bu-"

"No. I've had enough of this Hiccup. Before, I could live with you wanting to enact vengeance on the _beasts_ that denied you a normal life…" his sad gaze traced the boy's withering legs that hadn't seen use for a very long time. "… But now, I realise that letting you out with that privilege is simply going to get you killed the day there isn't someone _else_ to save you."

"No but dad, you have to listen to me, I really hit it this time! I even swear on mum's life, just before I got chased by that Monstrous Nightmare, I hit the Night Fury!"

The man paused, flinching slightly at the words and tone the boy had used, before raising a curious eyebrow. "Oh, so you've finally hit it? You, my son, have become the first Viking ever to hit a Night Fury…? Glorious!" the man smiled widely, chuckling heartily, before dropping the bomb, "So… what did it look like?"

…

…

"I… It was too dark to see…" it was only now, that Hiccup realised just how fruitless his attempts of persuasion seemed to be. He had no evidence. He also had no reason to be trusted as he had lied about this before -when he was young and immature mind you- he was different now, however people retained their view of the boy.

Stoick sighed, before bending over, trying in all his power to find a reason to believe his son. "Then where did it fall?"

"Somewhere over Raven Point I think…"

"So you aren't certain?"

"It… It was too dark to see exactly."

Stoick_ wanted_ to believe him. He really _did… _but it just wasn't there. He sighed with a heavy heart at the decision he had to come to, "I'm sorry son, but from now on, you're not allowed to leave the house during attacks. If you want, you can go to the forge, I won't deny you that so you aren't bored and alone, however I can't keep watching you do this to yourself and the village."

Hiccup could only display a straight laced face of passivity at the blatant truth slapped his face like a trout out of water.

They both separated with hurt expressions, glazed eyes, and newfound invigoration.


	2. Fate's Twisted Ways - Part 2

Having searched the forest from top to bottom for the entirety of the next day, I'm seriously beginning to doubt I hit it.

Maybe I was wrong? Maybe my ears only heard what I _wanted_ to hear in my head…? Or maybe I simply hit a bird or something. And even if I _did _hit the Night Fury, it's quite possible that it simply escaped its bonds from the fall or something and is long gone...

Urgh. I scratched out the map in my journal angrily with a stick of charcoal, before sighing.

"Maybe I should just turn back…"

A monstrous grumble echoed from above the hill in front of me, causing me to choke on my breath and freeze. Slowly, with the caution of a gazelle, I crept up towards the ledge on silent wooden wheels, and peered over. There was an enormous crater that looked as though something the size of a small boulder had crashed into and skidded along at an angle, and there was another ridge where the tracks continued past. Something had clearly hit the ground and skidded along _heavily, _and damn did it look incredibly painful...

Furtively reaching it, I peeked over again, this time holding my breath in terror.

My eyes were met with a magnificent, black dragon, which had scales that lightly gleamed in places from the filtered forest light, and stunning black wings that were akin to a bat in design. What was strange, however, was that there were no sharp horns or spikes, nor any form of natural 'defences' on the dragon. It was a simple, sleek build, and surprisingly small for what Night Furies were renowned for... You wouldn't think that the 'most dangerous dragon known to mankind' was only twenty feet long and had wings slightly larger than itself.

Crawling over the edge, my eyes squinted. Hopefully it wasn't still breathing. Whilst I have always wanted to enact my revenge on the beast, I never intended to torture it. I wasn't that cruel. I also preferred the idea of having killed it from the fall alone instead of having to sink a blade into its neck, but I could only be _so _picky in the end.

Reaching it, I stared at its still form and closed eyelids. It was breathing still, and the moment I unsheathed my knife, it grunted in what sounded like considerable agony, before venomous lime-green eyes and slitted, black irises stared back at me and into my soul.

I recoiled instantaneously, chuckling nervously at how it huffed and writhed to hide my fear. "Thank Thor the ropes are strong enough to hold you…" I muttered.

All I got in response was a low whine, mixed in with a growl, before it eyed the dagger and its posture slumped slightly. Accepting it's fate, bound up and tangled painfully, I could tell it didn't want to be killed by this 'fishbone sitting in some contraption'. It at least wanted to die honourably by the hands of a strong warrior, being the legendary Night Fury…

However, still, it lay down it's head in resolute acceptance, it's eyes flickered wearily between the knife and my face, and it still flinched when I leaned closer, however when I raised the dagger high, my breath coarse and ragged with adrenaline-

I did the one thing that I really shouldn't have done.

I looked it deeply in the eyes, and I saw terror.

The dagger dropped to the dew-layered earth below, and I recoiled.

"I can't do this… _I can't do this." _I muttered emptily, ignoring the confused glance it gave me. "After spending all my life trying to get revenge on you for ruining my life… You killed my mother. You ruined my father not physically, but psychologically… You destroyed any chance of me living a normal life when I was five years old! YOU DRAGONS ARE ALL THE SAME!" I wretched, a gut heaving sob breaking the tense atmosphere like a knife in itself. "My own village hates me and I'm treated as useless! I'm _not_ going to be the village chief like I was supposed to, but instead my muscles-for-brains cousin is! I HAVE _NOTHING _AND IT'S ALL. _YOUR_. _**FAULT**._" I choked on my own tears, and vacuumed the air violently in deep, chest bloating breaths.

Silence clouded the air as I simply stared down at my quivering hands, shaking like a leaf in the crisp Berkian winds.

My lone, troubled thoughts were lightly interrupted when the Fury growled quietly. Somehow, it wasn't threateningly, nor was it violently… It simply growled in what looked like understanding in its now dilated, wide eyes staring back at me.

"But even after all of this… Everything you've done to me... I still can't bring myself to kill you." I cried, "How can I possibly call myself a Viking when I couldn't kill a helpless Night Fury, fuelled on vengeance and anger? I really am _useless_."

My eyes trailed hollowly down towards my twig-like legs. _"I'm not a Viking. **I never wa****s.**_" Dull and glazed, I leant down to the ground beside me and picked up the fallen knife limply, and with no expression whatsoever, I cut the bindings.

"Just… kill me quickly. Please." I sighed, closing my eyes and waiting for that inevitable pounce. I could already imagine the black beast majestically flattening my useless body to the ground, crushing my useless chest underneath a clawed paw, and finally tasting its kill, before spitting me out violently, realising that eating my useless, thin carcass tasted about as scrumptious as a roasted eel lathered with poison.

A low whine trilled in my ears, before a hot breath tickled my face lightly, in time with its steady breathing.

But nothing happened.

Cracking open an eye, I found myself staring back at the wide, limey eyes of the beast before me. I frowned in realisation. "Oh. So you don't even recognise me as a threat. Great. Well, as Gobber said, I suppose Dragons need _toothpicks_. Would you kill me faster if I _crawled into your mouth and you crunched?_ Or can't you just do that signature _blow up the surrounding twenty feet with an explosive blast of blue, black and purple misery?_ At least then, I suppose I'd be dying a pretty cool death…" I rambled and muttered and snarked and sighed, but nothing I did or said would get the Fury to kill me.

"What do I have to do? Punch you to get you to kill me?" I asked, raising up an open hand and dramatically clenching it-

But before I could reel back, the dragon surprised me. It leant forward in an incredible blur, before resting its snout on the tip of my hand, which instinctually unfurled open out of reflex.

And we stayed like that. For a long while. Until eventually, the dragon pulled away and stared at me in the eyes.

"W-what…?"

It snorted, before twisting its head, as though inspecting me again, or perhaps thinking about something, when suddenly_ it launched at me._

I barely had time to register that the thing HAD eventually pounced on me, and that until now, it had simply led me on with a farce of friendliness before killing me.

Except once again, I was proven wrong in my assumption. Here I was, staring at the thing, as it gumlessly bit down on my hand. It was staring intently, as though looking right through me, when suddenly I felt it. A smell tingle trembled up my arm as I realised that it was roasting my hand alive inside its mouth! Immediately, I attempted to pull away, howling until breathless, however it only freaked me out further when it followed, frowning and refusing to let me escape by gently collapsing on top of me, holding itself high enough for me to breath but not to wriggle, and another five seconds later, the burning stopped.

It lifted itself off of me, falling backwards to sit vertically on its tail, as though copying what I was doing sitting up by my elbows. I lifted my hand up towards my face, eyes scanning it in certainty that it would be charred black and mottled by flame, but I was surprised to see that nothing had changed.

"What-" my shallow voice was cut off by an abrupt rush of blood to the head, my vision swimming and senses wobbling, "-did… you…… _do…………?" _It hit me like a gronkle had charged my front and flattened me like a catapult.

My brain slowed to what felt like a stop, before unexpectedly accelerating to speeds my thoughts could never have reached before. My head pulsed in agony, and my chest burned with arithmetic palpitations. My hand felt like it was melting to the bone _and deeper,_ and my without any warning, **_everything exploded._**

My hand screamed in bone-shattering, muscle tearing PAIN as it seemingly reshaped and warped, bent and straightened. I could feel some joints solidifying, whilst others were created in places they shouldn't exist, and that exact pain spread like wildfire to my chest and upper part of my body. All of those bones now multiplied the agony by thousands of times, and I could feel my arms broadening like small tree trunks, slowly pulling themselves into my body, becoming stubby. I couldn't feel my fingers any more -well, I couldn't feel _anything_ under all the pain any more, but I could somehow tell what I was loosing, gaining and altering all the same. My chest heaved, and I felt the need to roar violently as it extended into a thick but lithe arch, my spine creasing and folding and rippling under the forests blinding light.

"AAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!!" I wailed in terror and pain and horror as my own body betrayed me. It felt like I was dying, yet so much worse.

_Was this what I deserved for shooting down that Fury? Torture beyond death itself?_

My neck cracked and snapped and popped suddenly as I felt liquid fire metaphorically pour over my skull. Everything stretched and pulled and tugged and it felt as though my now thickening, leathery skin couldn't decide which way to go first. It enveloped me, my face stretching forwards and upwards sleekly, nostrils widening, which allowed me to gasp for deeper breaths of the only refreshing air in all this manic.

Then it reached my legs.

When I thought it couldn't get any worse, I was so very, very wrong. The first thing I felt was searing agony. It hurt so painfully that I felt blinded by pure, suffering torment. Wretches and sobs heaved through my widened jaw as I screamed until my lungs emptied, before repeating again. I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes and look at myself, however that didn't stop me from feeling every twitch in ever muscle and fibre. My legs practically burst at first, tearing apart at the contact of this liquid-suffering coursing through my veins, and I could finally feel myself ebbing away into the deep cocoon of subconsciousness. I couldn't bare the pain any longer, and halfway through the final process, I was finally relieved of this torment…

Only to be woken up blearily by a crushing feeling in my shoulders thirty seconds later. My head lolled to the side numbly from passing out and all the pain, however the earth-shattering roar that ruptured the air definitely proved that I wasn't dizzy enough to not feel the pain. I could feel my upper-back stretch and tear _once again,_ as though compensating for something it forgot to do earlier, and suddenly I felt something pointy and boney pierce the leathery skin, before unfurling around me awkwardly, tangling me up and causing me to cuss and curse viciously -probably bad enough to even cause a sailor to back away in fear.

All I could do was sob, laying there on the ground in the afterglow of experiencing Tartarus itself, with my eyes and ears clenched, and my brain slowly ebbing in and out once more in exhaustion that hit harder than I had ever experienced before.

I finally flopped to the ground like the slightly-heavier fishbone that I had become.


End file.
